


The Worst Borrowers in the Galaxy

by CornetHummy



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Borrowers Fusion, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Explicit Language, Project Freelancer, The Single Most Ridiculous Thing I Have Ever Written, scrambled timeline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2018-09-24 06:39:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9708713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CornetHummy/pseuds/CornetHummy
Summary: Borrowers are tiny humanoids who live in the walls of human houses, ekeing out a secret living. Except for the armored Borrowers hiding out aboard the Mother of Invention, who seem to be engaged in a conflict over territory and salvaged snacks. Okay, mostly they just scream at each other.Or, an inexperienced Agent Washington has a bunch of really little colorful space marines living in his room and doesn't realize it. Yet.





	1. Apple Chips

**Author's Note:**

> So I posted this the other day but took it down due to technical difficulties. It's back up now!

Wash wasn't getting enough sleep.

That wasn't new. In the past few months Wash could count the number of mornings he had woken up refreshed and energized on two fingers. Most of the time he either collapsed into bed too exhausted to dream or tossed and turned, hearing noises in the walls. Maybe South wasn't just blowing smoke about the rats on the ship.

But the others seemed fine. York was joking around over a plate of eggs, chatting with a genial North. South complained loudly the obviously freeze-dried and reconstituted food, Wyoming was contemplating his coffee, and Carolina had rushed her energy bar breakfast to get back to training. As for Maine, he always looked a little tired. Did weird noises keep him awake too?

But not voices. Maine definitely didn't hear voices. Anything sounds weird when it wakes you up at 3 AM and your brain's cooked from intensive training. Wash tried to remember that.

"Hey. You alright?"

Wash snapped alert at the voice, turning to see Connie looking over at him. He immediately pretended he was eating his generic military Froot Loops and not stirring them in a half-dead state until they turned to multicolored mush.

Sadly, the already mushy state broke the illusion.

"Uh, yeah. Fine! I'm fine." He made himself swallow a spoonful of cereal remains and purple milk. "Just, you know. Going over yesterday's training exercises."

Connie made a not-too-convinced-sounding hum. "For the record, you're not missing anything. They're having the 'guess what amazing dream I had last night' conversation. You know, the one no one ever cares about."

"Hey! I care about it," York cuts in, setting his fork down and leaning across the table.

"Cuz it's your dream."

"Yes! And it was very deep and interesting if you ask me." York shrugged. "Which no one ever does. What about you, newbie? You sleep alright?"

No. "Yeah," Wash said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Fine, like I said. Why does everyone think I need more sleep?"

"It just takes a bit to adjust to Project Freelancer's level of activity." North took a kind, non-judgmental sip of orange juice, somehow. "You'll do better in time."

"Or flunk out," South muttered.

Wash knew he was turning red and hated it. "Nobody flunks out. You get in, you're in. And for the last time, I'm. Totally. Fine. Hell, I even had dreams last night too! Important ones!"

"Did you?" York looked at Wash expectantly.

"Here we go," Connie mumbled.

That wasn't actually a lie. "I was really mad because I'd been left behind somewhere. Like I was supposed to meet people but nobody showed up. At...a Mexican restaurant? With music playing...?"

South squinted. "What, like you got stood up on a date?"

"No? No. Like I was waiting for someone. Look, I don't remember it that well." Wash wished he hadn't brought it up in the first place. "Just alone at a table. With Tejano music. And salsa. Uh, the dip, not the music."

South snapped. "There. That's what we need for these eggs, North. Drown them in salsa." She stood up to no doubt bug the kitchen staff, and Wash was once again safe from being the center of attention.

Which suited his current mood just fine.

* * *

"Do you ever wonder why we're here?"

"What?" Grif poked his head out from under the jeep.

"I said, you ever wonder why we're here?" Simmons cupped his hands over his mouth to shout over the motorized sounds, rumbling and high-volume music blasting out from their cobbled-together vehicle.

"Can't hear you! Doing percussive maintenance!" Grif thwapped the Guinea Pig with an unwound paperclip. "Oh my God, can't we just get Lopez to do this?!"

"He's on watch! You know we can't interrupt watch!" Simmons covered his ears as the music blared louder. "Dude, just fucking turn it off!"

"He's on lunch?! You fuckers took lunch and didn't tell me?!" Grif gave the undercarriage another thwack, finally shutting off the malfunctioning radio and silencing the Tejano music. He poked his head back out again, helmet smudged with oil. "Thank God. So what was it you were asking me before?" "Nothing," Simmons said as he leaned against a paperweight, wiping sprayed oil off his armor. "The moment passed."

"Hey now, what if I had something really deep and insightful to say? What if I wanted to be philosophical for a while, huh?" Grif climbed out from under the vehicle, setting his tool down on the shotgun seat. "That's me claiming shotgun, by the way."

"What? But you're the driver. And we're not going anywhere."

"Yeah, I know. I'm the driver. I'm also claiming shotgun because I don't want anyone sitting next to me. Not hard to understand." The orange-armored soldier peeked under the hood. "Okay, seeing as I'm still not sure where the hell Lopez installed the music player, I...guess it's fine. Why do we even play music? Seems kind of counter to the whole 'don't let anyone see or hear you' thing."

"So's competition," Simmons pointed out.

"That's what I've been saying! I think, for the sake of all Borrower-kind, we need to just stop this whole not-war territory spat. Greater good shit. Just walk away, see if anyone's dropped any peanut butter cups, and live peaceful, Sarge-free lives. It's the only sensible thing to do." Grif punctuated his speech by shutting the hood with what Simmons thought was a little more force than necessary.

The music immediately started blaring all over again.

"SON OF A BITCH!" Grif covered his own ears. "Fuck, this doesn't really help when you're wearing a helmet."

"He's gonna hear us! They're gonna hear us!" Heart pounding in his chest, sure he was about to feel the familiar, awful sensation of the floor vibrating, Simmons panicked and gave the Guinea Pig a swift kick to shut it up.

That did, in fact, turn off the music player. It also sent one of the cheap-looking plastic wheels flying off the machine into the wall of Red Base.

Both soldiers stared at the fallen vehicle and one another.

"Okay." Grif held up his hands. "If Sarge asks..."

"It was like that when we got here."

"Beetles. Hercules beetles. They're hella strong, dude!"

"On the ship?" Simmons took another look at the mess that was the Guinea Pig. "Actually, yes. Sure. Hercules beetles."

"It's our word against theirs." Grif picked up his paper clip and poked at the patched-together seat of the reconfigured toy vehicle. "Still not sure why that music's there. One would almost think Lopez was passive-aggressively trying to kill us."

"What?" Simmons blinked. "Lopez? But he adores us!"

"Yeah, you're right. Dunno what I was thinking!" Grif finally wiped the glass of his helmet with a scrap of rag. "I'm actually starting to get a little paranoid."

"Paranoid's good! Paranoid keeps us alive and unseen and, you know, un-squashed!"

"True. Doesn't mean I have to like it."

Both jumped at the sound of the radio frequency crackling into their helmets, fed from the receiver chips built into the backs of their armor. Even Grif seemed to tense, no doubt waiting for Lopez's droning warning of Incoming Human.

Instead Sarge barked right into their ears. "Attention, all Red Team Units! Lookout excluded, of course. We've run across a Code C-H-I-P, fully intact and untouched."

"Hell yeah!" Grif punched the sky. "Bag of chips! What are they, Fritos? Cool Ranch? Can we expect any nacho cheese powder?"

"Even better!" Donut chirped over the frequency. "No sugar added, all natural apple chips!"

"Considerably less hell yeah. You're breakin' my heart here, Donut."

"Dude, we can't exactly afford to be picky," Simmons pointed out. He actually loved apple chips. "And excellent scouting and snack-spotting observation skills, sir!"

"Lopez!" Sarge said. "We clear? Any sign of El Gigante?"

" _No_."

Simmons frowned. "Was that 'no, he's not coming, or no, we're not clear?"

Sarge ignored that concern. "Then move out! We meet in three minutes down at Checkpoint Big Ugly Lamp. Bring your climbing gear, men!"

Already on edge from Lopez's rather vague answer to Sarge's awkwardly worded question, Simmons felt a shiver go down his spine. "Climbing gear, sir...?"

* * *

"So we're just letting them go for the chips?"

Church didn't look up from the makeshift telescope when he heard Tucker's voice. "I guess so, right? It's their turn."

"Yeah, but there's no way we're gonna get an equal share. Pretty sure the whole idea of a resource war is that you war. Over resources."

"Well, yeah." This time Church did lower the looking device, cobbled together from broken bits of lab equipment. "But we can do that after they get the chips for us. Down from there."

Tucker grinned. He was helmeted, but Church knew Tucker well enough to tell when he had that asshole grin. "I could get up there before them."

"No you can't! Sarge and Donut are already up there."

"Well, I'd know that if you let me borrow the telescope sometimes! And I mean Maroon and Orange. You know, those guys."

Church looked over at Tucker, then back through the crack in the wall that served as Blue Base's observation point. The chips were up on the highest wall-mounted shelf, somewhere even the human probably had to stand on his toes to reach. That was where The Good Stuff ended up, presumably to hide it from the other humans who never even came to visit him. And while the "conflict" with Red Team was one of those things Blue Team was a little lax in enforcing, there was pride at stake.

"Well, the bag is red. I can't tell from this angle, but..." Church took a deep breath, his tone heavy with the gravity of the announcement. "We may have Doritos."

"Holy shit! Okay dude, that does it. I am going up there."

"Sarge is gonna attack you."

"Whatever! I'm up for a scuffle." Tucker held up the wire he'd twisted into a sort of two-pronged sword. Not that he ever really used it against other soldiers, but it was good for warding off rats and cockroaches. "Tell you what. I get there before the rest of the Reds, you take my next round of lookout duty."

"Oh, it's a bet now? Is that what's on the table?" Church truly despised lookout duty. Nothing got to him like hiding near the edge of a doorway, trying to predict the movement of enormous, Church-squashing boots. "You don't make it, and you get mine. Two shifts."

"Oooh! Ooh! Can I have them? Are we sharing shifts? Can I have some? I will trade you for whatever I have in my packed lunch." Caboose's excited voice came over the radio, reminding Church that he had his turned on. Of course he had; they needed to be ready in case Sister gave the signal.

"I packed that lunch, Caboose," Church reminded him with gritted teeth. "And no. You don't get lookout duty, remember? We've been over this. No going near the humans. Definitely no talking to them."

Caboose whispered, "But I want to make a giant robot friend and ride on his shoulder and fight Godzillas. WHO IS GOING TO FIGHT GODZILLAS IF WE DON'T?!"

"Just...stay in the vents." Church took a deep breath. As a scout, Caboose was questionable; as a lookout, he'd be incredibly dangerous to his own team, let alone Borrower-kind. But Church had to give the guy credit; when he was patrolling the vents, cockroaches left them alone.

"Yes! The vents. By myself, because it is just me. And a mostly-intact Cheezit. That is for me," Caboose said. "Um, also I have to go walk down THAT vent so I have to go bye!"

After that odd exchange, Church and Tucker weren't sure what to say for a good fifteen seconds.

"What the hell was that about? Why does he keep saying 'by himself?' Nothing's in there but some rats and bugs and stuff!"

Tucker shrugged. "He wouldn't be running across anyone from other bases, would he?"

"What the hell would they be doing out here? Besides, we'd hear them. Shouting at him." Church went back to his spyglass. "Hey, you wanna get a move on. They're at the ugly lamp."

"What? Oh, fuck. I better not lose this one because of Caboose!" Tucker grabbed a roll of rope with a grappling hook attached and slid open a panel in the wall and slipped through into the main room, taking off in a sprint along the edge of the walls.

Probably just showing off that he's the better climber, Church figured as he was left alone in the base. Which was fine with him. He did just fine alone, finally able to hear himself think. The lack of anyone to talk to certainly didn't highlight every faint, distant floor creak, every shuffling sound that might be rats or mice, or that peculiar sense that they weren't as good at hiding from the security cameras as they thought.

Nope! It was fine. He was fine. Even if Tucker didn't beat Grif and Simmons, which was unlikely given that Grif and climbing didn't mix and Simmons was obviously afraid of heights, they'd end up sharing the chips anyway. The rivalry just determined who would get to divvy up the share, and how.

Even Blue Command would prioritize survival and security over the Glorious Territory Battle On Behalf of the Blues. They'd never officially said anything about the arrangement and Church hadn't told them for just that reason. What they didn't know wouldn't get Church in trouble.

Besides, he reminded himself as he watched Tucker pull off an infuriatingly perfect grappling hook throw, they had the best battlefield on the entire too-large-to-comprehend ship. Their Human Bean was a snack hoarder who barely spent any time in his quarters during the day. They couldn't be safer.

"Um, hey guys?" Sister's voice piped into Church's helmet. "I'm supposed to tell you when Mount Hottie is heading inside, right? So you have time to hide?"

Church took a deep breath. "Yes, Sister. That is the lookout's job. You tell us if he or anyone else is on the way. And then you hide too. We went over this seventeen thousand...did you just say Mount Hottie?"

"Yeah, it's my code name for him!" "I thought we agreed it was Dye Job!"

"I just thought we should all get to pick our own code names." Sister paused. "Oh, and thanks! Cuz he's heading inside."

"WHAT?!"

* * *

"You heard Lopez! Sabado Gigante approaches! Get to hiding," Sarge barked over the radio.

Simmons froze, clinging to the climbing rope for dear life. He was surprised to find he could go into panic mode while already panicking from being a full four feet off the ground. "But sir! Hide where!? We're just hanging!"

"Just pull us up," Grif added, fear elevating the pitch of his voice.

"Will take me too long! This is why you need to climb faster! And get here faster! Why the blazes didn't you take the Guinea Pig?"

"Hercules beetles," Simmons blurted, his mind blanking on what the relevance was.

"...Hercules beetles." Sarge snorted. "Always knew they'd come back for round 4. Just get your keisters in, under, or behind something!"

Simmons stared at the doorway, shuddering with each impending heavy footstep. Below them was solid floor, and enough space in between that a fall would crush their bones. Above, the lowest shelf loomed too high up to reach in the little time they had. And no matter how big the human was and how easily he overlooked the obvious, there was no way he wouldn't see a pair of three inch soldiers hanging from a string.

Simmons breathed sharply, scanning the floor until he noticed a basket of dirty clothes under the shelf. It was risky, but better dead than spotted.

(That was a lie. Simmons would rather live.)

"Grif!" He called down to the other soldier, who was bracing himself on the wall. "On count of three, push off and swing us forward! I think we can make it!"

"Count of three?! Screw that, we don't have time!" With surprising strength, Grif shoved hard and the whole rope swung upwards. As it just reached the edge of the basket, Simmons ignored his lurching stomach and jumped.

He landed in a sea of pungent linen, or maybe cotton. He was trying not to think too hard about it as he burrowed in, hearing the door unlock and open.

"...Grif?" He whispered, looking around the sea of clothes. "Gri-oof!" The weight of his fellow soldier landed right on his back, cushioned by only a thin layer of shirt.

Grif crawled in after, offering no apology nor complaint as he froze just as deathly still as Simmons. Well, sort of deathly still. Shivering was a response Simmons and Grif couldn't seem to shake.

The impact of the heavy footsteps was softened by the fabric, but he could still feel and hear it. Simmons could just see through if he peeked out the side of the basket, between the weave, though he kept telling himself not to look.

He looked anyway, because apparently the curious part of Simmons hated the rest of him.

God, it was always worse closer to the floor, more so when the human was in armor. When he wandered his quarters at night, usually just to wash up and then collapse onto his rather Spartan wall-mounted cot, the human wore a sleeveless t-shirt and shorts, and he'd change into a black bodysuit before leaving in the morning. The armor, Simmons guessed, was stored elsewhere.

But once in a while they'd encounter the human like this, already enormous feet carrying the added bulk and weight of boots, clad from head to toe in plates of gray armor with yellow highlights and a helmet that just looked like it was made for looming.

At least normally the guy had a face. You could look and see something familiar, though warped and made terrible by scale. That suit was designed to make a human more intimidating to other humans, meaning it turned a Bean into a monster.

The boots stomped in towards the wall facing the door, the one with the mounted shelves, stopping right in front of the laundry basket. They blocked the view as the massive soldier reached up to the shelf, not saying a word. Simmons could make out the sound of crinkling plastic and foil.

The human proceeded to lumber onto the pullout bed, still hanging open, a bottle of water in one hand and something cupped in the other. The shield of the helmet went up, briefly revealing a flushed, sweaty face. He cupped his hand over his mouth, then took a long swing of water. Of course, Simmons thought. He was taking some kind of pills. Probably painkillers. Those tended to go fast.

Pressing his fingers against his temples, the human took a long, deep breath. "Okay. Mission. Can do this." Down went the shield, the human once again a faceless monster as he rose to his feet and headed out, the door locking electronically behind him.

The sounds of footsteps echoed from behind before fading away, followed by a transmission from Lopez.

"The human has left. I don't suppose anyone got squished."

Of course, Simmons didn't understand a lick of Spanish. But he had to assume that was Lopez's way of saying they were in the clear. He took a deep breath and swallowed down the urge to vomit from panic as the adrenaline left him, crawling out from beneath the heap of clothing.

"Ugh." Grif popped up right next to him, gagging. "I had to hide underneath a pit stain the size of me. Are we sitting on his undershirt or his jockstrap? You know what? I don't want to know. I need a shower."

"You hear that?" Sarge said over the radio. "Grif is volunteering to take a shower! That's one of the signs of the Apocalypse, along with leviathans and flying flaming eyeballs."

"I'm going to ignore that," Grif said, walking unsteadily on the soft surface of the laundry. "Did you get the chips?"

"Why yes, Grif, we are perfectly safe! Thank you!" Donut's cheer had a little bit of sarcasm beneath it. Maybe he was tired, Simmons thought. "We hid behind this dusty old photo frame. Really dusty. I guess he doesn't look at it often!"

"And a treacherous Blue crouched like a coward behind that mug with a dog on it," Sarge added.

"Hey!" Tucker's voice came in from the background. "You guys hid too!"

"But we did so like soldiers! Hmph. Back in my day, Borrowers didn't have to hide. We were stealthy! Never even thought about getting caught, cuz it wasn't gonna happen." Sarge paused. "Wait. Where's the chips?" Seconds later, over the sounds of an angry Sarge and frustrated Donut, Simmons saw Tucker shimmy down the rope with a small chip bag tied to his back. He gave some odd combination of a salute and a middle finger to Grif and Simmons as he dropped past their view.

"HEY! Get back here, asshole!" Grif ran right over Simmons, only to hesitate at the rather sizable drop down from the basket rim to the floor. "Unhand the chips, Blue!"

"Sucks to be you! Dibs!" Tucker called, as he and the chips disappeared into a niche in the wall.

Grif collapsed against the side of the basket, head in his hands. "I could just hear them getting all crunched up when he pulled them through the hole. You can't be that careless with chips!"

"I thought you hated apple chips." Simmons was still reeling from his near-encounter with the human, and taking it out on Grif seemed like a convenient outlet. "Besides, what does it matter if they get it first? We all split everything at night."

"Because those were going to be my chips, Simmons. I was going to pick out the best chip. Even if it was an apple chip. Some things are important." He sighed. "...Eh, I'll just get Kai to hook me up ahead of time. You want anything?"

Simmons leaned over the basket rim, awaiting rescue from Donut and Sarge. "I'm not hungry..."

* * *

Wash adjusted his helmet as he strapped himself into the landing shuttle. He thought he ought to say something encouraging to the rest of the mission team, but he wasn't sure what. Wyoming would probably mock him for it. Based on how tense she looked, Connie might not be in the mood to hear it. She might think he was condescending to her.

And Carolina? She probably didn't need it.

"We need to be in and out as fast as possible," Carolina said as 479er readied the ship. Carolina looked perfectly at ease, so much so that Wash started to feel like a nervous wreck himself. "We do this right, they won't even know we were there."

"But," Wyoming added, "I take it that if it isn't that easy, you have a backup plan?"

Carolina visibly bristled at Wyoming's tone. "We've always got one. But we're not going to need it."

As the ship lurched into the air, Wash just hoped he wouldn't throw up in his armor.

* * *

"While I am glad everyone's safe and not caught," Caboose radioed his teammates. "I still kind of wish we could make friends with him."

"Dammit, Caboose," Church transmitted, "we've been over this. Many times. There are plenty of good reasons why we have to hide from Beans. Old, well-established reasons."

"Yeah, and you won't get anywhere arguing this with Church," Tucker added. "He's a traditionalist."

"Exactly, I'm-what? I am not a traditionalist." Church paused. "Am I? What the hell does that even mean?"

"You're old fashioned. Calling them Beans and making up all these horror stories. They'd probably just scream and pass out if they saw us. But, uh." Tucker cleared his throat. "That does not mean reveal yourself, Caboose. Got it? Do. Not. Reveal. Yourself."

"Right. Yes. I got this thing." Caboose 'got it' on the level of rules being rules, which he decided was close enough. Every time he tried to ask why, exactly, having a human friend would be so terrible, Church and Tucker would start ranting about being discovered and horrific science experiments.

At least Sister seemed to agree with him. "Personally? I think it'd be cool if someday one of us did make contact. Not like, one of us specifically? But someone. Then we wouldn't have to run and hide around all the time. It's soooo boring. I barely even get to see most of the cute ones."

Caboose wasn't sure how much of that statement he agreed with. He didn't have much time to ponder it as he heard the sound of skittering feet echoing through the ventilation shaft. And a squeak! He knew that squeak.

"Ummm, oops my radio is getting some static noises. Static static static! Pssssh." He switched it off before Church could yell about him going radio silent on a mission again, looking ahead into the darkness illuminated only by the LED light tied to his helmet.

A pair of red eyes gleamed up ahead, followed by half a dozen more.

It wasn't that he liked keeping secrets from Blue Team. And he wasn't going to keep them secret forever! It was like how technically, Borrowers were just a temporary secret from the Humanity Beans. A temporary secret that had lasted millennia but would eventually end as soon as everyone was ready. He was sure of it.

Just like he would eventually tell the others about Freckles.

"Freckles! You brought your family!" Caboose ran up to pet the big, patchy rat's snout, earning pleased squeaks from his friend. He was quickly swarmed by smaller rats, many of them bearing the same spots as their mother. They stood shoulder-height to him, sniffing him curiously.

"Your babies are getting so big so fast! Last time they were little wriggly pink ugly things. Uh, I did not mean to imply you are ugly," he amended as one of the babies started chewing on his helmet. "Please do not be offended. I just do not like babies."

Freckles nudged Caboose back with her nose, inadvertently freeing him from the baby rat swarm and earning a laugh from the soldier. "Okay, okay, I get it! You want this, right?"

He reached into his backpack. "You are getting greedy! I think later I will be really mad at myself for giving you my travel rations that I am supposed to eat on my way back to the base, but I will be even more upset if I do not give you something and you chew my arm off. And Church will be very upset with me if I come back missing an arm. But if I come back saying I am hungry, he will just grumble."

As soon as he held out the Cheezit, the mother rat grabbed it with her great yellow teeth and started dragging it back as the babies tore into it.

"You see? I am the best rat fairy godfather ever!" Caboose punched the air triumphantly. "You know, when I do introduce you to Church, which I absolutely certainly will, you should tell him he needs to eat more often. I think hunger makes him grumpy."

The Freckles family responded with more chomping noises and squeaks.

"Well, I have to start heading back the way I am not sure I remember, so, uh...oh! Hi!" The little rat so intent on chewing on his helmet was back, climbing onto his head. "This is very cute so I do not mind that you're heavy. But could you not do that? Uh..."

The light went out as the rat chewed it off, leaping off of Caboose and following her family back down the tunnels with the bulb in her mouth.

"...Um. That was also very cute so I am okay with that and not frustrated." Caboose took a deep breath, surveying the absolutely nothing he could see in any direction and listening to the sound of running machinery. "Yes. This is fine. I will turn around and just keep walking the way I went. And then I will end up somewhere. And maybe somewhere will be Blue Base!"

The fact that he might be lost in the ventilation systems was another thing Blue Team didn't need to know about until the time came.

* * *

The mission was not a complete disaster. At least Wash wouldn't have classified it as one, if it was up to him. A 75 percent disaster, sure. 80 percent.

The enemy no longer had access to the data files he'd failed to get in time, because the back up plan was to destroy them. He'd at least managed that. And thanks to Wyoming's cover fire and Carolina's quick thinking, he'd managed to get away with a limp and bruises instead of gunshot wounds. Everyone made it out in one piece. That had to count for something.

He reminded himself of this during the short, harsh debriefing, making a note not to avoid Carolina's gaze. One didn't want a reputation for shrugging off mistakes or wilting under them.

What he hated most was how none of that really made him feel better about how things had gone, and how many errors he could spot in his tactics and approach on review. What helped him keep his cool was one thought: at least I'm still in the top ten.

Then he glanced at Connie as they headed back to the barracks and immediately felt like an asshole.

"Don't," she said, holding up her hand before he could say anything. "I messed up in my own right, and I was lagging behind you already. It's...fair."

"It doesn't really mean anything," Wash said, taking off his helmet to get a bit of recycled 'fresh' air. "The leaderboard, I mean. It's just to encourage us to do our best."

"By making us compete with one another? For...what? Doesn't seem to be doing much for morale or teamwork." Connie sighed, shaking her head. "Sorry, sorry. I'm just, you know. It's easy to be down on it when you're slipping. I'm sure if I start ranking higher I'll think it's a great idea." She laughed without any real humor.

"Hey, it's out of 50. That's still-"

Connie shot him a look. "I don't need your pity, Wash."

Wash bristled. "I'm not. I wouldn't." He backed off, wincing as he put weight on one leg by accident.

She turned away. "I know. I just...keep thinking about the triplets? How we used to hang out with Ohio and Idaho and Iowa and now we just...don't. Not anymore. Not even sure why," she said as she removed her own helmet. "I think I just need sleep."

"...Yeah. I keep meaning to message them about lunch or something." Wash didn't want to spend too much time thinking about what Connie just brought up. People drift away all the time. They weren't on missions with the Triplets anymore, that was all.

"Just, you know. Keep your ears open." As she walked past him, Connie whispered. "Been hearing voices."

* * *

The human had collapsed into his bed again, stomping around like the floor was the only place he could funnel his frustration. Church hoped the resulting quake was worth the guy's little moody fit.

Whatever the issue, it wasn't Church's problem. As far as he was concerned, Dye Job could be the happiest guy in the universe and it wouldn't matter. He was out cold, and it was Church's job to make sure he stayed that way during the nightly meet up.

Except it was getting hard to keep an eye on that huge mass messily covered by a blanket when Church had a lot on his mind. Especially when he couldn't yell.

"Where the fuck is he?!" Church hissed, which was nowhere near as satisfying as yelling. "He's out of contact. We told him not to leave radio range!"

"I don't know, I told you! I called him like 30 times. We can't wait, dude." Tucker was pacing on the floor, in the 'neutral' corner where security lights gave off a faint glow. "He's probably fine. We'll just get his share."

"Yeah, he got eaten." Grif stretched, unconcerned. "Probably, anyway. You know how it is."

"Eaten? What the hell would eat him?" Simmons asked, arms crossed.

"Crows. Space crows. Anyway, I think in order to pay tribute to Caboose, we need to move on with our lives and get to redistributing the wealth here."

"Nobody got eaten," Church snapped. "He's probably still mapping, or camped out there."

"Wait." Grif let go of the packaged cookie he absolutely was not dragging away preemptively. "You let Caboose do the mapping? In the ventilation shafts?"

"He's actually like, really good at it. Since he's one of the strongest, he can just fight anything that gets in his way." Sister was leaning against the wall, standing between the gathered Reds and Blues. She was about as indifferent to the conflict and its rules as anyone Church had ever met. He'd call her positioning symbolic if he thought Sister ever did anything with any forethought.

"The maps are kind of a mess, but it's not like Blue Command complains or anything." Tucker shrugged.

"Hey, you wanna tell 'em anymore Blue Command secrets, Tucker? Like the name of our communications officer? How they spend their weekend?" Church glared like he was trying to burn a hole in Tucker's head.

"Dude, there's nothing to say. I bet the Reds have to do it too. Don't you?"

"I believe that is Private Grif's job. Our Private Grif," Sarge added with a meaningful look at Grif.

He was rewarded with a shrug. "Oh jeez, looks like it slipped my mind to risk my life in the vents. For months. How'd that happen. Anyway, Caboose is probably just fine. You're like, really high strung, dude."

"I am not high strung," Church snapped, tightening his grip on the crossbow they'd fashioned from salvaged elastic, metal rods and springs. "I'm the fucking sensible one! I just don't want him to get caught."

Tucker paused. "Yeah, he'd definitely get caught. I mean if one of us was gonna get discovered, it'd be him."

" _And then the end of Borrower-kind would be your fault, and they will curse your name for generations_ ," Lopez said in his digitized monotone, indifferent as ever to the food being distributed.

"Lopez is right! We're all in this together, and we can't just let one of ours go missing like this. Even if he's part of the other team!" Donut grinned and held out an M&M to Church. "Here, Church, eat something. You're getting a case of the crankies."

"I AM NOT CRANKY!"

Church didn't even realize he'd shouted until it came out of his mouth. The sound echoed through the room in the dreadful silence that followed as all eyes turned to the human on the fold-out bed, watching for the slightest sign of movement.

The mass of blanket and rumpled clothing stayed motionless save for the rise and fall of his breathing.

"Fuck, dude," Tucker whispered. "You gotta watch that!"

"I know! I know." Church feared breaking his crossbow if he held it any tighter. "Look, uh, remaining Blue Team. We'll pick up our rations here and form a search team. Reds, you...do whatever, I guess."

"Don't you ever sleep?" Grif asked.

"Yeah, you know. Catnaps here and there. I don't need sleep right now. Sleep's overrated." Church bounced in place.

"Now hold on a second, Blue." Sarge sauntered right up to Church, clearly attempting to loom over him despite being the shortest member of Red Team. "Caboose conveniently vanishes and gives you an excuse to go on a mission right before a major battle, huh? Is that how it is? You think I was born yesterday? I was born a long time ago! In a fishing gear store! And fish is good for your brain." He tapped the side of his helmet.

Church twitched. "Oh, for fuck's sake, Sarge."

"What major battle? We never have battles. We've never had an actual battle!" Tucker threw up his hands. "We're just assholes to each other a lot!"

"Exactly. You're just biding your time before your big strike!" Sarge poked Church in the chest with his free hand, balancing that damned harpoon of his on one shoulder. "Reds? We can't let the Blues out of our sights. Get packing, men, we're going on a trip!"

"What?! We're going into the vents after a Blue?! With all due respect, Sir," Simmons said with a shaky attempt at a salute, "while your dedication to snuffing out Blue plots is admirable, this is sort of their problem."

"I am not going in the vents, alright? Fuck that." Grif was back to dragging the sandwich cookie. "Vents are where spiders live. You guys do what you want, I have a date with an oatmeal creme pie."

"Finally, we're gonna do something?! God, thank you. No offense," Sister said, "but it gets really boring here. I mean I can only look at the same cute guy every night for so long."

Grif dropped the cookie like it was on fire. "Wait, Kai, you're going with them?!"

"Uh, I'm Blue Team."

"You're wearing yellow! I keep telling you, just be Red Team! Ugh." Grif groaned. "Fine, I'm going too, I guess."

"Alright! A group camping retreat! What a great chance for us all to grow closer to one another in a poorly-lit, private area," Donut said, ignoring the weird look from Simmons.

Church face-helmet-palmed. "Fine, fine! Go with us or don't, Reds, I don't care. But you can't slow us down."

"Wait. Now, if Grif wants to do it, it's got to be a bad idea..." Sarge snapped his fingers. "Aha! You WERE trying to trick us into going with you. I knew it! Tricky Blues, but told ya. Fishing supplies. Can't fool me. You were going to lure us off-base and then take it while we were gone."

"Oh my God, no. No, Sarge, this is not a trick. Just, our teammate is an idiot and he got himself lost and I do not need MORE idiots following us. The entire point is to get him out of the vents because the more of us that are there, the higher the chances of us getting caught!" Church was starting to regret that part about the two teams never managing an actual battle. Shooting Sarge was starting to sound like a satisfying idea.

"So you trick us into following you, and we get caught, thus only revealing the Borrowers aligned with Red Team! In one fell swoop you've used the Beans to eliminate us, laying claim to the Mother of Whatsitcalled for yourself!"

"Things lay, people lie!"

"That's for lying down! Nobody lies claim! Learn your grammar," Sarge barked.

"And I keep telling you, it's the Mother of Freelancer! They say that word all the time! Freelancer this, Freelancer that! And I don't have time for this! Tucker, go grab some twine and...Tucker?"

Only then did Church realize that the general whining, arguing and Donut-ing had come to a full stop while he and Sarge had their shouting match. It was dead silent around them, their teammates frozen in place and staring at something. Sarge seemed to notice the same thing, only to freeze himself and back very slowly away at something behind Church's shoulder.

"...What? Why the hell is everyone so quiet? And when did the lights turn on?"

Oh.

There was only one thing that could honestly spook Sarge into silence, make Simmons shake like that, and frighten even the apparently fearless Lopez and Sister. There was one rule he and his kind absolutely could not break, even at the cost of their own lives. Somehow Church knew exactly what he'd see as he turned around, and that made the dread all the worse.

Two huge brown eyes, lined with lack of sleep, stared down at him as the human crouched right on the floor. The towering form cast a shadow over the entire group, silhouetted by the ghoulish fluorescent glow of the ugly lamp. He lowered his head, squinted in obvious disbelief, and didn't say a word.

Which meant it was Church's job to react. Sure. He could do that. He knew just the thing.

Screaming seemed like a good start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Yes, this was partially inspired by The Brick Gulch Chronicles, along with some neat Borrower AUs I've seen around
> 
> 2) I can't give a schedule on updates, sorry! They'll be sporadic but I do have more planned.
> 
> 3) Yes, characters who should show up later on are here in altered form because I am taking the timeline and making scrambled eggs.


	2. Prime Directive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Screaming occurs. The tiny assholes figure out what to do about the big somewhat-asshole. Caboose meets someone new. Arachnophobia warning for this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, remember this? Thank you RvB 16 for getting the gears going. Sorry for the long wait, folks; shouldn't be that bad NEXT time.

As it turned out, the tiny, colorful humanoids Wash was hallucinating could scream pretty loud for their size. Wash watched the light blue one in particular run through a series of interesting paths and brand new forms of obscenity.  
  
"So this was your plan," the bright red one shouted in a Southern accent. "Lure us out here and expose us all!"  
  
"No! Exposure was not in the fucking plan! And this is your fault for getting me so caught up in this stupid argument!"  
  
"You guys might want to keep your voices down," Wash suggested in a level tone. If he was losing his mind, which he clearly was, he'd rather do so peacefully.  
  
The humanoids jumped at the sound of his voice, a few covering their ears. "Oh fuck," the orange one said, "he's trying to talk to us."  
  
"...Sorry?" Wash made an effort to lower his voice. "It's just that on the slim chance this is real, I doubt you want anyone else to hear you."  
  
"It's not real," Aqua said immediately. "It's a dream. In fact, it's a really stupid dream. Little dudes on the floor? You clearly got some issues."  
  
"And don't tell anyone about it in the morning," Orange added, clearly trying to sound at ease despite visibly shaking. "Nobody cares about that wacky fucking dream you had last night, trust me."  
  
"...Okay, that does it." Wash had been laying on his stomach to stare at the tiny soldiers. He pushed back up into a sitting position, which seemed to spook his 'audience.' "York, I don't know where you got a hologram generator, but this is a really stupid form of hazing. Creative. But stupid."  
  
Except Wash knew what a hologram looked like. It would glow slightly, flicker, and most importantly wouldn't cast a shadow.  
  
Most of the soldiers were dwarfed by his own shadow, a fact that briefly made him feel disproportionate and monstrous. He quashed that sensation by reminding himself that this was his room, and moreover, this wasn't really happening.  
  
But the one in brown armor stood a bit distant from the others, and he cast a shadow.  
  
"So." Red stepped forward, holding something Wash couldn't quite make out and aiming it up like a shotgun. "What's the protocol for breakin' the protocol?"  
  
"There is no protocol for that," Maroon sputtered. He was pressed flat against the wall, panic in his voice. "We just aren't supposed to be caught!"  
  
"Well, then. Guess it's time to use my diplomatic skills." Red cleared his throat, turning back to Wash. He'd kept the weapon trained on Wash the whole time. "Attention, Giant!"  
  
"Washington." Wash was talking to the hallucination again, because he couldn't seem to snap himself out of it. "It's Agent Washington."  
  
"Great. Now we know his name." Light Blue threw his hands up. "Sure, let's just talk to the human like he's people. While we're at it, let's exchange social media contacts!"  
  
"Church! You don't start with that!" The pink soldier craned his neck to look up at Washington and gave a wave. "We can't be rude and not give our names now. Right, Washington? I'll go first. My name is Franklin Delano Donut. I'm a Virgo, and once I almost got blown up. Who wants to go next?" He looked around at the mostly silent, hesitant soldiers. "Anyone...?"  
  
Yellow jumped up. "Hi! I'm Kaikaina Grif. I've seen you naked like a thous-" She stopped short when the orange soldier ran over to pull her away. "Hey! Grif, leggo!"  
  
"Don't talk to it," 'Grif' hissed. "We never talk to it!"  
"  
Why are you telling me what to do?" Kaikaina replied, pulling her hand back. "I'm Blue Team, remember?"  
  
"Nobody fucking talk to it! Him. The State of Washington." Light Blue barked out orders, only to be drowned out by a cacophony of tiny voices shouting at one another. They were erupting into panic and disorder without a leader to really take control, and it was clear Light Blue didn't inspire enough confidence in his troops to command them in a time of crisis. And as Wash evaluated the little soldier's performance, figuring out what he'd do differently, it finally hit him how ridiculous this was.  
  
"Shut up," he found himself mumbling as the impossibly small figures kept shouting at each other, their voices pitched like average-sized adults but sounded like they came from a cheap radio held at arms' length. They drowned him out or ignored him, arguing over him like he wasn't in the room, which would annoy him if he wasn't so sure they didn't exist. He shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, hoping this dream would end so he could go back to not getting enough sleep. Never mind how his earlier injuries ached through the dream. Never mind how suspicious it was the soldiers wanted him to believe they were fake. This was too much.  
  
"I said," he snapped, "will you SHUT UP?!"  
  
Wash took a deep breath and opened his eyes. The little soldiers were gone without a trace, as if the'd never been there before. Which of course they hadn't. Whatever that was, dream, hallucination, unexpected side effect of pain medication, it was over. He hadn't heard anything like tiny footsteps running on the hard floor. No, what he'd heard was just the hum of machinery, right? Right.  
  
If they were real, he'd have felt pretty awful about scaring them off with his voice. He caught himself before he apologized on instinct, sighed and forced himself back onto his feet before collapsing back into bed.  
He hadn't heard anything. He hadn't seen anything. Just take the orange guy's advice, let this go and tell no one about this stupid dream. Wash found himself drifting off before he could ponder the implications of taking an imaginary guy's advice seriously.

* * *

"FUCK." Church collapsed with his back to the wall the moment the Blues made it back to their base, burying his helmet in his hands. "Oh fuck. God. That was-that was way too close."  
  
"He thinks it's fake, right? Right?" Tucker, usually confident, was pacing back and forth next to Church and glancing at the wall entrance warily. "Shit, what's the next step if you break the Prime Directive?"  
  
"There is no next step! You don't break it! There's no 'in case of a human seeing a whole bunch of you at once' help guide, Tucker!" Church stopped mid-rant. "Did you just call it the Prime Directive?"  
  
"Don't yell at me! You're the one who broke it, dude!"  
  
"And then we talked to it! I talked to it. Why the fuck didn't you assholes stop me from talking to it?!" Grif managed to pull off a lot of yelling while he was catching his breath.  
  
God, it was so loud. A human shouting in close range at full volume was like hearing an earthquake, powerful enough that Church had felt his whole body vibrate at Washington's little meltdown. Those hands could crush any one of them easily, and they were all so close.  
  
Clearly Church wasn't the only one overwhelmed by the thunderous yell. He and his fellow soldiers scrambled on instinct, hiding behind furniture in seconds as if acting on a hive mind. As soon as the giant had lumbered to bed, they'd hauled ass to Blue Base.  
  
Wait.  
  
Church stared at Red Team. "Why the hell are you guys in our base?"  
  
"Yours is closer! Evasive measures. And I knew unlike Red Base, you'd keep yours completely unguarded." Sarge was clearly trying to inject the swagger back in his words even as his hands shook.  
  
"Fine! Whatever." Church threw up his arms. "Look, we need a plan in case Gigantor wakes up and doesn't think it's a dream."  
  
"We could kill him," Sarge suggested. "In his sleep. Make it look like an accident."  
  
"With what? This?!" Tucker held up his two-pronged wire 'sword.' "It's for fighting off cockroaches. Pretty sure this wouldn't make a dent. And even if it did, them finding him bleeding out the neck when no one else was in the room? I'd be suspicious."  
  
"And when they do find out? They'll take it as declaration of human-Borrower war," Grif added.  
  
"Maybe he fell on a tiny harpoon. In his bed," said Sarge.  
  
"No one is killing the human. That's not on the table, ok?" Church groaned and slumped all the way down onto the floor. "Fuck, ok. We gotta consider evacuating."  
  
"Evacuating? Aww, but I was getting so attached to this place." Donut crossed his arms. "I mean, I guess we are getting in too deep. And if you go too deep, you gotta pull out."  
  
"I-thank you, Donut, I guess." Church already had a headache; Donut could only do so much. "I know it'd be a pain in the ass, but..." He looked up and did a double take at the figure slumped on Donut's shoulder. "Whoa, what happened to Lopez?"  
  
"The volume and shock shorted him out. Gonna need a few tweaks to get him back online." Sarge huffed. "See, if we'd gone with my first plan and found a way to micro-engineer a Diesel engine, we wouldn't have these problems."  
  
"Which means we're currently down two," Grif pointed out, "counting Caboose. And I know that guy. If you leave without him and tell him to meet us somewhere, you're never seeing him again." He paused. "I mean, however that influences your decision here. I won't judge."  
  
"Aw come on, man, we wouldn't abandon Caboose," Tucker said. "He'd break the ship sooner or later. Wouldn't be surprised if he hasn't found the engine room already and is pressing buttons. Though why the hell hasn't he been answering his god damn radio?"  
  
There was one reason why Caboose wouldn't be answering, but it was one Church didn't want to consider. Caboose was...Caboose, but he was the strongest member of Blue Team. (Never mind the only Blue who couldn't honestly be considered athletic was Church himself.) The guy always came back from recon intact and babbling about 'adventures.' And it was his fault they were in this mess to begin with. If he hadn't up and vanished, that stupid argument would never have happened.  
  
"Okay, yeah. We can't leave without Caboose. We have to find a way to reach him. Somehow." Church groaned.  
  
"Plus, wouldn't you have to tell Blue Command?" Sister was lingering near the door, serving as lookout and ignoring Grif's nervous glances towards her. "Speaking from experience? Way better to apologize than seek permission. I mean, the best case is where you never get caught at all. Obviously."  
  
Never get caught. Right.  
  
"So," Grif said, "we all agree this never happened and neither Red nor Blue Command finds out. Because we like our asses here where they are and not handed to us by our bosses. Right, Sarge?"  
  
Sarge bristled. "Well, chain of command does demand that...as leader, I make the executive decision to pretend all is well."  
  
"Oh man, you're agreeing with me?" Grif sounded positively gleeful. "We should encounter humans more often."  
  
A glare from almost every corner of the room made Grif cough and look aside. "Uh, that was totally a metaphor for something. Hey, Simmons, you're not gonna object to us not kissing Command's ass over this?"  
  
Simmons, who hasn't said a word since their narrow escape, just wrapped his arms around himself and shook his head. Grif awkwardly patted him on the shoulder and said nothing else.  
  
"Yeah, okay, we don't tell Command. Obviously. But we still have ourselves to worry about, and the big dude." Tucker gestured with his thumb towards the entrance. "And if he's on the lookout for us now, that's gonna make supply runs hard. He sees stuff missing and can guess why now. So what the hell do we do?"  
  
"I..." Church wanted to crawl into a hole. A smaller hole. "I don't know."

* * *

"I am definitely okay," Caboose told himself as he limped along, leaning against the wall of the ventilation shaft. "I have taken several turns and I have not turned the same way four times because that takes me in a circle. I am not scared because I am talking to myself, which is not the same as not being alone but it is a nice substitute. Like margarine. I am hungry and thirsty, but that's okay because I will soon find a nice unopened can of soda and a cookie. Because I will look down in the next place with slots and see the vending machine. The inside of the vending machine! And it will say, 'Hello, Caboose! You've had such a rough day. You can have whatever you want and take a nice nap after, and I will alert Church who will not be mad that your radio won't talk to him.'"  
  
At least he was getting closer to the dim light pouring through the vents. He could hear sounds, voices too big and distant to make out and heavy footsteps. That meant there were humans about. Church had instructed him to walk past the grates very carefully when he could hear humans, never stop and look except for safety. But he was so tired, his leg aching from the bad fall he'd taken earlier, and it wasn't as if they'd see him. They were too giant, and their helmets hid their eyes. No wonder humans were so dangerous and destructive when they couldn't see where they were going.  
  
He knew to stay away from humans. He'd been told a thousand times. But there were no rules against watching them. And if Church did eventually find out and object, Caboose could point out that he was just too tired and sore to keep going past the grate.

Oops, he was plopped behind the grate now, peering down.

From above, humans looked small! Like actual beans. And hey, that one in the black was hitting those other guys really hard. Why were they fighting? Maybe they were in a big war too. Maybe the Mother of Big Huge Ship was inside a much much BIGGER ship, and these beans were hiding from even larger people. And THEY...  
  
"There's a multiverse theory about that!"  
  
"And maybe I was saying that out loud instead of thinking it out quiet," Caboose realized when he registered the unfamiliar voice.  
  
"Oh, sorry! I didn't mean to eavesdrop. Talking to yourself is actually a very common response to stress." A Borrower in purple traveling garb walked right up next to Caboose. He wore no helmet, his dark-skinned face exposed. He had makeshift glasses made from bits of wire and lens fragments and a knit cap over a shaven head. "Don't worry, they can't hear us. Especially not with that going on. What a ruckus, right?"  
  
"Um." Caboose pondered where to start. He'd never encountered a Borrower out of armor cobbled together from discarded plastic and metal on the Big Ship Place. Most of the colonists didn't need armor, but they were all back on Blue Colony on the spaceport, which was not at war. Also, there was no Purple Team. No Violet Team either, come to think of it. If there was, Blue would really be in trouble. Violet was the end of the color spectrum, and no doubt powerful.  
  
"Do you have any water in your backpack?" he asked instead. "I am worried I might die."  
  
The purple Borrower startled, fumbling with his pack immediately. "Oh, jeez! Sorry! I thought you sounded a little hoarse. Hold on!" His gloved hands pulled out a capped thermos made from welded plastic, pulling off the rubber cap and offering it to Caboose.  
  
Caboose brought it up to his faceplate before remembering he could not drink through it, flipping the shield up so he could gulp down the contents. It was lukewarm, and tasted like toothpaste, but it was better than nothing.  
  
"I always like to keep a supply of mint tea leaves so I can have something refreshing to drink. I mean, well, cold mint tea is refreshing when it's...cold." The other Borrower shrugged. "Really wish the humans stocked some Yerba mate or rooibos. Maybe I should sneak a note on their bulletin board about the health benefits." He blinked. "Um, can I have it back now?"  
  
With utmost reluctance, Caboose returned the empty canteen. "That was good and now I am less worried about dying. Uh, my name is Michael J. Caboose and why are you in the vents? Are-are you the funny tasting water fairy?" He was still rather dizzy.  
  
"Huh? Oh, no, I'm a field medic! Frank Dufresne." Purple offered his hand for Caboose to shake. "You never know what kind of troubles you'll run into out here, so it always helps to be prepared."  
  
"We are not in a field," Caboose felt the need to point out. He meant to shake hands with the nice doctor for plants, but slipped up and instead found himself collapsing against the metal siding of the shaft. "Ow. Sorry. My leg quit."  
  
Immediately DuFresne, who Caboose decided to call Doc because he wasn't sure how to spell DuFresne, knelt down next to Caboose and started examining him. He pulled out a handheld version of the LED light Caboose had on his helmet until a few hours ago. "Man, looks like you twisted your ankle! What happened?"  
  
"I fell trying to climb up the vent and it slowed me down a lot, but that's ok because I'm doing important work and also am not lost," Caboose tried to say. Instead out came several different notes of "ow."  
  
"You're lucky I brought a supply of aloe vera gel. Did you know the medbay has an aloe plant and they don't even make use of it? It's just for decoration! Humans can be really wasteful," Doc observed as he started removing armor plates from Caboose's bad leg.  
  
Meanwhile, Caboose found he could still see at least some of the fight going on below. It was a welcome distraction, since something about Doc's approach to medical care made him a little nervous. The black-armored soldier was taking on three other humans, which struck him as a little unfair. Weren't the teams supposed to be even? No wonder Black Armor Person was so mad.  
  
"That one's a doozy, huh? I think I overheard their announcer lady call them Texas." Doc was rubbing goo on the leg, which wasn't doing a whole lot but was at least distracting Caboose from the pain. "Hard to tell. That thing's so loud half the time it's incoherent."  
  
"I did not hear it," Caboose said. "Actually, I might have, but I wasn't paying attention. I was busy being lost. Wait, I mean not lost. Also I think the bean in black is going to win the tag game--"  
As one of the armored humans slammed into the wall, it sent a thundering, quaking vibration that left Doc stumbling and debris falling from the top of the vents. A screw landed perilously close to Caboose, the clang reverberating. The quake was followed by alarmed shouts from the humans below, more noises that Caboose ignored in favor of a more important topic. In this case it was the spider that had fallen right on top of Doc and was perched on his back.  
  
"Um, Doc..."  
  
"Phew! That was a doozy, huh?" Doc got back to his feet and dusted himself off, oblivious to the creeping spider. "Every day's an adventure around here. I tell you, nothing like how it was on Earth. No cats at least."  
  
"Doc?"  
  
"I hope that human's not too badly hurt. They can get kinda roughed up in those, uh, exercise sessions? I don't even know what they're doing. Who knows with humans? Did you know there's sections of this ship even we can't seem to get to? One would almost think the security system's onto us, but that's silly."  
  
"Doctor Doc."  
  
"I'm not actually a doctor, Caboose. But I guess you could call me Doc! Has a nice ring to it. Is something on my head?" Doc asked as a long spider leg pulled at his cap.  
  
"Excuse me." Caboose leaned forward, putting as little pressure on his hurt leg as he could, reached around Doc and grabbed the big spider by the back of its thorax before flinging it out into the darkness. "Flick."  
  
"...Was that, uh." Doc looked back at the rather unfortunate spider, now stunned on its back, and felt the top of his head. "Was, uh..." His voice had gone up a full octave. "Was that a huge spider?"  
  
"Oh, no, that was only a medium size spider." Caboose sat back down, pointing up at the ceiling. "That is a huge spider. A lot of huge spiders."  
  
It was probably for the best that Caboose's radio was broken, or Doc's scream might have broken Church's eardrums.

* * *

It was close to nightfall, which meant the human would be back in his quarters sooner or later. Close to nightfall, and no sign of Caboose. No plan formulated, no one sure what to do other than argue with each other or sulk. It was as if, stunned by fear, they were all panicked and standing still.  
  
Kai _hated_ when nothing happened.  
  
She hated how the entire life of a Borrower meant nothing ever happened. Humans built ships and colonies, and Borrowers lived in them and hid. Humans fought aliens, and Borrowers hid. Humans probably had all kinds of interesting times in the bed, and Borrowers...well, of course they had fun too. When they weren't hiding.  
  
And now? Now that something had finally happened, that real danger and excitement had made it into their lives? Everyone wanted to hide from it! Hide and go on as if nothing had happened. Like the human was going to buy it. He was a smart guy! He owned a calculator! Who besides nerds and technophobes still owned a calculator? And Mt. Hottie wore fancy armor and lived on a ship, so he obviously wasn't a technophobe.  
  
Plus he ate cheese puffs. Guaranteed Nerd Alert.  
  
So as she grew bored of watching her fellow Blues and Reds alternately argue, yell, insult one another and shoot down plan after plan, Kai took advantage of how little attention she was getting from any of them to come up with a plan. Grif would be pissed when he found out, but he'd thank her in the end. Besides, if she told him about it he'd freak out and try to keep her safe, again.  
Better to beg forgiveness than to ask permission. Wasn't that how it went?  
  
It was easy to convince Church to let her have his lookout duty again that evening, since Church was so distracted he would have agreed to letting her throw a party. (She should have at least asked, in retrospect.) Grif was too distracted trying to deal with a nearly-inert Simmons to notice or protest as she left. Shimmying up to the perch on top of the doorway went smoothly when she had a goal in mind.  
  
"Come on, big guy," she whispered, leaning over the edge and waiting. "I know you've gotta come home sometime. It isn't like you have a social life. I don't think any of you do. I mean, I can think of a few interesting things to do with full body armor, but not  
every day! You need variety."  
  
She waited, kicking her legs over the edge and latching the end of her grappling hook into the doorway. There, down the hallway, a looming shadow preceded by the vibrations his boots made on the metal floor. Thud, thud, THUD. Closer, closer, had to time it right...  
  
"Hey, Big Stuff," Kai chirped as she hung upside-down in front of Washington's visor, suspended by the rope tied around her waist. "Can you help us out? The others are being REALLY DUMB and..."  
  
Oh, whoops. He was screaming again. Yeah, she probably should have taken into account that might happen. Unfortunately, Wash's voice was literally so loud Kai couldn't hear herself think. More specifically, her eardrums throbbed and her armor rattled, her brilliant plan briefly overridden by an instinct that said hide, hide, hide. The very thing she hated doing.  
  
Also the very thing that was difficult to do when she was hanging in midair.  
  
"Wash?" Kai thought she heard a distant female voice from down the corridor. "What the Hell was that about?"  
  
Two huge gloved hands clamped around Kai, cupping her inside and snapping the rope effortlessly. "Nothing," Kai heard Wash rumble. "Nothing! Just saw a spider."  
  
"Ugh. You're on your own there," the unknown woman said, footsteps trailing off with her voice. "Just flush it down the toilet yourself."  
  
Though Kai couldn't make much out in the little bits of light peeking from between Wash's fingers, she could hear a door slam behind them and felt herself jostled as the human sprinted to his bed. Only then did he remove the hand above her, staring down at her.  
  
"What the fuck are you doing?!" he hissed. "Why are you here?"  
  
As intimidating as it was seeing a human peer directly down at her with terror and fury in his eyes, Kai reminded herself that she had a mission that couldn't fail. She forced herself to her feet, difficult in Wash's shaking hand, and started shouting at the top of her lungs so he could hear.  
  
"I'm here to cut the bullshit! Duh. Hey, you're not actually going to flush me down the toilet, are you? Because I'm super not into that." She held her hands out for balance. "Also could you like, chill for a second? We're the ones in mortal danger here and your shaking is gonna make me barf. Into your hand."  
  
Several terrified and furious voices were shouting into her radio all at once, and it was taking effort to ignore them. Grif, in particular, was clearly not entirely pleased with her decision. Well, she expected that. "Oops! My radio's dying," she declared, "guess you'll have to come out into the open and deal with it here." Then she shut it off.  
  
"Anyway, big guy? Here's the deal. Our friend got lost, and there's a lot of things that could kill him? So, you need to help us find him, and in return we won't..." Oh, oops. Kai hadn't thought of that part. She was never the best at improv.  
  
"...You exposed yourself to me so I would help you. And so you could threaten me." Wash sounded more dumbfounded and deadpan than actually menacing, though Kai's childhood training reminded her that just because he wasn't immediately trying to kill her with his massive death hand didn't mean he wouldn't on a moment's notice. "In return, you won't what."  
  
"Tell everyone you drool in your sleep like a purebred bloodhound, asshole. How about that?"  
  
There was Church, approaching the bed like he feared it might explode at any moment.  
  
"Mention the time we saw you Googling 'Disney fan fiction," added Tucker, pronged paper clip sword in hand, poised on the dresser. "I mean, not that I pay attention to your browser history. Seriously, dude? Belle isn't even the hottest princess. Get some taste."  
  
"Shoot you. In the face. Until it's effective." Sarge had his crossbow trained on Wash as he marched forward.  
  
"KAI FOR THE LOVE OF GOD _GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM THERE_." Yep. That was Grif. No sign of Simmons...  
  
“Jesus, I'm not going to expose you assholes, alright?!” He set Kai down on the edge of his dresser, where she sat with her legs dangling over the edge.  
  
“What,” she cracked, “am I too much to handle?”  
  
This prompted another outburst from Grif, which Kai’s mind filtered as “Blah blah Kai blah mortal danger blah inappropriate blah.”  
  
Wash lowered himself onto his bed with a creaking noise and buried his head in his hand, his thundering voice coming out muffled. “How am I supposed to find your friend without drawing attention to him. Also, what the hell ARE you. Can we start there?”  
  
“Borrowers,” Kai said, kicking her legs casually. She’d mouthed off to a Bean and survived, which left her with a bit of a fearless rush.  
  
“Which is admittedly kind of bullshit because being honest here, we’ve never returned anything that I can remember.” Church’s voice was still shaky, but Kai’s prediction ran true: he'd risk danger for a fellow Blue.  
  
“It's like when you borrow a book, or a shirt? You're never gonna see that shit again,” Tucker added, still holding up his sword despite his more casual tone. What was he going to do, hope Wash fell in the right direction to poke his eye out?  
  
“We can give you some stuff back as ammo. If we shoot you. In the face.”  
  
Wash seemed undeterred by Sarge’s threat, mumbling something incoherent into his hands. “Fine. Okay. I'll find a way to help. Somehow. And then you guys need to…go.”  
  
“See? Even State Guy thinks we should get the hell out of here.” Church huffed and then paused, looking back up at Washington. “Wait. Go where.”  
  
“I don't know. You can't get off the ship. Maybe if you catch a ride on a drop ship during a-no. No, I am not bringing you all along on a mission.”  
  
“What mission?” Kai grinned. “Do you guys blow people up?”  
  
“I don't suppose you, uh, ever go portside? Like to a place with girls? Borrower girls? More than one girl, I'm dying here.” Tucker examined his sword, trying to sound casual.  
  
“You need help shooting people?” Sarge cocked his harpoon. “I can't expose myself obviously but I can lend my secret skills. S’just what this protracted conflict has been lacking! Actual bloodshed. Especially if any of your enemies are Blue!”  
  
Grif raised his hand. “For the record? I am 100 percent okay with us getting off this ship. Leaving this war behind. For the sake of all Borrower-kind. You don't want to betray Borrower-kind, do you, Sarge?” He patted the older soldier on the back, earning a growl.  
  
Still no sign of Simmons, Kai noted. Maybe he was ill?  
  
“No one is going on some ultra-violent Bean bullshit mission!” Church snapped, holding his arms out. “You want to explain that to Blue Command?”  
  
“You're not coming along for a mission,” Wash bellowed at the same time, loud enough to silence the others as his voice rang in Kai’s ears. “Sorry, sorry,” he added at the reactions, softer now. “Anyway, that's all classified info. The Director can't even know you're here, or…I don't know. Honestly, I still think this is some complex hallucination I'm going through due to stress. I’ll help your friend, and then…fuck, we’ll figure it out later.”  
  
Kai stood up, fist pumping. “Hell yeah! Mount Hottie’s gonna help us, guys!”  
  
“Sister,” Church said, “you are in so much trouble.”  
  
“Oh man, am I gonna get disciplined for once?” Even better!  
  
“N…no, but…”  
  
Wash lowered his hands. “Mount What?”

* * *

 Simmons rested against the wall of Blue Base, unable to move. He knew he should be out there in case the others did something I'll-advised, like say, converse with a Bean? Hell, he could hear Washington’s horrifically loud voice from behind the wall. He sounded sincere, if confused.  
  
But it didn't matter. Couldn't talk to humans. Couldn't look at humans. Couldn't make himself move, not when he thought about thundering footsteps and looming shadows. Not when even Grif was willing to actually communicate with one of them. They just pretended to be nice. They'd never see any of them as people.  
  
He swallowed down his nausea. Nausea, there, that would be the excuse if Sarge asked why Simmons wasn't out there. Grif would cover for him. Grif always did. Usually. Sometimes.  
  
They were all so doomed.

**Author's Note:**

> 1) Yes, this was partially inspired by The Brick Gulch Chronicles, along with some neat Borrower AUs I've seen around
> 
> 2) I can't give a schedule on updates, sorry! They'll be sporadic but I do have more planned.
> 
> 3) Yes, characters who should show up later on are here in altered form because I am taking the timeline and making scrambled eggs.


End file.
